


Exposure Therapy

by RealKnife



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 01:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10583889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RealKnife/pseuds/RealKnife
Summary: When he wakes up, he cannot feel his legs. A continuous note of fear overshadows everything, broken only by the faraway distinctive tap of claws on the ground.And all things come to pass eventually, do they not? Claws approaching on marble flooring become the next droning death tone. It would be so easy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written anything in 6 or 7 years. to say i'm rusty is an understatement.  
> ..with that out of the way, heres an asriel to flowey transitional thing set in brief observable moments.

He observes, as he always does. Asgore’s speech is slow, friendly; an attempt at putting the new monster in front of him at ease. Even after having spent so long focusing on other residents of the Underground and completely ignoring his father, Asriel remembers perfectly how he extends the vowels in the middle of his words, exaggerates his lip movements on ‘o’s and ‘ooh’s, his eyes static in a smile. Still predictable. So Asriel starts small.

“Do you ever sh, shut up?”

He is hesitant (as always) to disobey his father, but he is now above consequences and has been for some time. Asgore blinks slowly once, twice.

* * *

How stupid, Asriel thinks, that even if they both go through this the same amount of times his father’s memories of past encounters are limited to a vague feeling of remembering. He doesn’t bother waiting around for the big doofus to waltz into the garden this time.

The Ruins are about as welcoming as they look. Toriel is never outside at this time, he knows, as she prefers to sit by the fireplace and read out loud to herself. A lone Froggit rests by a patch of bright red flowers, unaware of Asriel’s intentions— and why would it be? It makes this look so _easy_.

Asriel expects himself to have second thoughts, to falter, to change his mind— but that hasn’t happened in the lifetimes he’s been thinking of doing this. Would he feel it, then, if he actually did it? There is nothing but the sound of a vine tightening and a choked off screech before it dissolves into dust.

The guilt sets in a bit later, even as nobody remembers or seems affected by this particular monster’s death. Asriel, too, dies without anyone being aware of his existence. 

* * *

 When he comes to next, it’s almost the same as usual. The guilt is gone and there’s a feeling of something else he can’t quite decipher, so he traces the same quiet past as last time and expects some answers from the Froggit. It evidently has none of those, so Asriel crushes it to the ground out of frustration.

And then he feels it again.

Too preoccupied with being caught earlier, he supposes. There’s a certain indescribable rush that one probably shouldn’t feel after killing an innocent, but that changes nothing. So Asriel quietly creeps through the ruins, tells himself it’s just an experiment, that he will reset and they will all be fine, that it’s not really killing them if they won’t even remember, and turns every monster unfortunate enough to cross his path into nothing but a pile of dust.

It’s better for his own sense of morality that he doesn’t admit just how much _fun_ he’s having. He forgets about having died, he forgets about nobody knowing who he was, about things changing, about mom and dad and Chara and life at New Home; there’s nothing but the feeling of a huge rise all over his body every few monsters. Mother had taught him about this, hadn’t she? Your Level of Violence increasing after racking up enough execution points. Different monsters giving different amounts depending on their own experiences and power. He hadn’t been keeping track of what gave how much, though.

She must be worth a lot of those, he thinks. Having been in the War and all, right?

The realization catches him off guard. He stops moving, stops laughing (when had he started?), his smile fades. He doesn’t know what bothers him more, is it the thought of killing his dear mother, or how nonchalant he is about it, still? He moves to a quieter part of the Ruins, unsure if he’s ready to start all over again.

* * *

 Same flower patch, same path, same monsters he disintegrated all by himself last time wandering like nothing ever happened. So who would know?  He is as curious as he is nervous. Does the fear of consequence count as guilt, or has he forgotten what that’s like?

He enters her house quietly, avoiding being seen at all costs. He can’t see her face when he does this, and he sees nothing but her horns and the back of her head from her resting place in the couch.

He drives a thorny vine through the couch and through her torso. There’s a choked sound, a book falling on the floor, the roaring fire next to her goes out, and then he can’t feel the pressure around his vine anymore. He can’t face his dearest mother while murdering her, but he sure can reap the benefits of doing so.

The house is quiet. He stays there a while, but there’s nothing that changes: no monsters come by, nobody comes to her aid, or wonders what happened to their queen any more than they did when she first locked herself away in this miserable place.

He resets, anyways.

* * *

He tries to be guilty, he really does. He spends a few other eternities helping everyone, being nice. He tells his mom and dad about who he is, tries to give a sense of normalcy to each of them, be it together or separated. One time he tries to continue as if he and Chara had never screwed up their plan, and lasts less than usual before killing himself. The next he spends it at their grave without ever seeing anyone else.

It doesn’t work. Nothing ever feels like it works, and he doesn’t feel any different. He doesn’t feel anything.

So, he tries the route that made him feel something again.

He wakes up and stays in the garden, but moves to a less exposed space. His fa— Asgore walks in eventually, as he always does. Asriel watches him water a few plants and hum quietly to himself, before wrapping many thorny vines around him and squeezing.

There are enough of them to muffle his strangled cries. Asriel makes sure to shatter his soul, too, before heading straight for the Ruins once again.

Once there, he gives the same treatment to Toriel as he did to her late husband. He doesn’t reset immediately, this time, choosing instead to stay for a while and find out everyone’s reaction to the king’s untimely disappearance act.

Would the sweet prince everyone knew and loved ever kill his parents without remorse? He finds that he doesn’t care about who they’d want him to be, anymore. He wonders when the last time he cared about that was. It is, however, true that Asriel would never do that.

“So, my name is...”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading.  
> any feedback is appreciated.


End file.
